


Challenge Day 6: Rotunda

by Solas_Dreadwolf



Series: Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020 [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Halamshiral (Dragon Age), Solas is painting, Solavellan Fluff, Solavellan Hell, Solavellanhellartchallenge2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23734645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solas_Dreadwolf/pseuds/Solas_Dreadwolf
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Solas, Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Lavellan & Solas
Series: Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703923
Kudos: 3





	Challenge Day 6: Rotunda

It was peaceful here in the Rotunda.  
One might want to argue about that because of Lellianas Ravens that cawed and were making noise in the rookery above – not to mention Dorians occasional banter with mother Giselle or the evenings that he drank and gossiped with the Inquisitor.  
But Solas found an odd peace in those noises, knowing that he was standing here in his own solitude, but that there were people around him as well.  
The Rotunda was a lively place after all, and there were days when another sound was added into the usual noises of the ravens or Dorians voice. Silent Brushstrokes and the shifting of a ladder.  
Solas face showed an expression of deep concentration while his hand directed the brush skillfully over the wall in front of him, gave the newest mural color and shape. Solas sleeves were rolled up – well, one was while the other one had fallen back to its former position, dipping into the paint on occasion, which tainted the sleeve now in deep blue and gold. He did not even notice the paint stains on his sleeve or the ones on his arms as he painted, his mind deep in thought.  
They had just returned from their night in Halamshiral, and he recalled every moment of it. The winter palace was impressive in more than one way. A dangerous place filled with intrigues, scandals and power play.  
Dorian had called it a snakes den, which was a fitting description for a night at court. He had not even realized how much he had missed that, being swayed by the atmosphere that these events permitted. The form and faces of such events might have changed, but the familiarity and the ambience did not.  
Solas slipped up on more than one occasion in that night, and he could just hope that no one would ask him about the fact that an elven apostate knew his ways around court.  
Because, no matter how much easier it was to lie, he didn't want to.  
A part of him knew that Fae might have noticed, and he just hoped that she would refrain from asking. He really did not want to tell her a lie to fix his slip ups.  
But the truth was, that he enjoyed the evening on so many occasions, he thought fondly of the way Fae had looked in that dress. Breathtaking and elegant as if she was meant to stroll the halls of a royal court, no matter how nervous she looked. There was the fact of course, that Fae had not known her way around the nobles but it only added to her natural charm, and she managed to sway everyone in the same way she had swayed him.  
Solas got lost in memories for a moment, when he remembered her hair that was tied up in an elegant updo, locks falling into her face, the soft lavender color of the dress that complimented her slender figure, her natural elegance. He would never forget her graceful movements as she took the stairs while the introductions had echoed trough the ballroom. Nor forget how the thin fabric of her dress had fluttered elegantly behind her, when they danced in open view. For that one moment it felt, as if they owned the court.  
The movements of his brushstrokes paused for a second, while he wondered about the familiarity of the night that they shared with each other. A night that held no need to pretend, he had allowed his carefully created mask to fall, forgot everything else beside her.  
He was so lost in thought, that he did not even notice the fond smile that laid on his lips, nor the woman that leaned against one of the rotunda walls while she watched him with a dreamy expression on her face, thinking back to last night, just as he did, while watching him paint the fresco for everyone else to remember.


End file.
